


for the dark hours

by pomegrenadier



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Team as Family, Tony Feels, really tired Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pomegrenadier/pseuds/pomegrenadier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man who has everything doesn't give a damn about most of it. Where damns are given, he can be a bit . . . possessive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for the dark hours

Possessive? Well fuck yes he's _possessive_ , because they're _his_ , his team, his people, this broken crazy mess of conflict and connection. He's all tangled up in them, and they in him somehow, and god but that's scary—to have and to hold, he thinks sometimes, four a.m. dragging at his limbs, stretching thoughts into strange shapes: until death do us part, but it won't it _can't_ because _he won't let it._  
  
 _Hold on_ , that's all he can do, _just hold on._  
  
Here they are, the six of them, wrapped up in each other in the dark hours of a cold Thursday morning, huddled in the living room with exhaustion-grey faces and shadow-gritty eyes, alive and hurting after days and days of fighting. Bruce and Natasha leaning into each other on the couch, her forehead pressed to his temple. Steve on the floor below them with his head tilted back against the cushion, baring his throat. Clint perching on the armrest, knees drawn up to his chest, listing to the side, and he'd be falling if Thor weren't curled up beside Natasha, bracing him there . . . and Tony's in there with them, nestled between Steve's arm and Thor's leg, warm and safe.  
  
Breath, warmth, a heartbeat or a hum—they're right here. New York's just waking up outside, the lights blinking out as dawn crawls up the eastern sky. But here, washed out by the pale blue glow of an arc reactor, here with their easy silence and their crushing weariness, here and close and real and together—  
  
 _This is mine,_ Tony thinks. And he holds on.


End file.
